


Business

by A_Random_NPC



Series: Voidsinger [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Voidsinger, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Random_NPC/pseuds/A_Random_NPC
Summary: Tyrvalin introduces Sinnlyra to his significant other, a dangerous man with an even more dangerous profession.
Series: Voidsinger [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796173
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Business

**Author's Note:**

> Tyrvalin Duskmourn and Sevarith Moonsorrow belong to @Vaethryn on Twitter. You can find them and her work here: https://twitter.com/vaethryn
> 
> This story has played out via combination of in game role playing and writing by myself in collaboration with Vae.

Lyra sipped her tea before returning to her embroidery hoop, setting the delicate porcelain cup well away from the piece she was working on to prevent any accidents. She picked up her needle and considered before continuing the pattern of Gilnean roses and thorns on a simple white background. As she picked out the next petal on a blood red bloom, her ears twitched, hearing the soft rasp of cloth against skin coming from somewhere in her home. Her heart leapt into her throat as she casually laid aside the needle, pretending to pick up a bobbin of thread as she readied the summoning that would bring her wrathguard immediately to her side.

She jumped as lips pressed gently against her ear in a quick kiss before teasingly murmuring,

“Hello, grey lady.”

“Tyrvalin, one of these days you are going to get stabbed and I won’t even be sorry about it.” She whirled, glaring at him from over the back of the couch, pausing when she saw another dark figure standing beside him. Her eyes narrowed with speculation. “I see you’ve brought a friend this time.”

“More than a friend, Lyra.” He straightened up with a coy smile, joining the taller man and pulling him from the shadows so she could see him. “This is Sev.”

“Ah, the mysterious Sev.” She stood, dropping into a polite curtsey. “It is a pleasure.”

The impassive look she received in return was not reassuring. She folded her hands before her, taking in the scraggly couple. How someone as exuberant as Tyr could be in a loving, committed relationship with a man this dour was beyond all comprehension, but he seemed happy enough, even if his taller companion was not. They studied one another while Tyr stood next to him, smirking at the two of them.

“Don’t mind him, he’s a grumpy bastard.” The loving tone in Tyr’s voice made her smile. It sounded exactly like the old complaint it was. “We’re here on business, thought I’d finally introduce you two.”

“Ah yes, your ‘business’. I hope it is profitable for you both.” she teased in return, giving him a wink. He grinned, artfully twirling a dagger in one hand. Sev’s eyes narrowed slightly as he uncrossed his arms and stepped forward.

“And what do you know of our business?” The night elf’s voice was harsh. She raised an eyebrow at him, tipping her chin to the side in polite inquiry. While he was a menacing figure, she felt no fear. Tyr didn’t seem the type to put his friends’ lives in danger. The taller man waited for her answer, once again crossing his arms, his face a stoney mask. Well then, she thought to herself as she met his glare fearlessly, two can play this game.

“Your clothing,” she said coolly, “It is very well made. The leatherworker and tailor did a lovely job, however….” She walked around the back of the couch, appraising him professionally. She circled him, eyeing his whole appearance. She ignored Tyr who was chuckling as he leaned against a wall and watching them both. She stopped in front of the night elf again, giving him a tiny, prideful smile. “I can do better.”

He said nothing, but pulled a matchbook out of one pocket, fingering a match into his hand. She gave him her politest customer service smile and continued.

“Part of my skills as a tailor is to know how different materials fall upon a body, and to use that movement and flow to my advantage to best display my customer’s assets to the greatest benefit.” She gestured at him, continuing. “As such, I can tell you that all of the leather on you has been tanned to the point where it is soft and will not squeak or rub when you move. Comfortable, yet durable, able to be worn for long periods of time without discomfort. This includes your boots, by the way. I can tell that, while they are very sturdy and well made, that they have a thin, flexible sole. Perfect for being able to feel if there’s anything underfoot that would make a sound that would give you away while working, yes?” She circled him again, feeling his eyes on her.

“While some might call the mismatched colors of your pants versus your boots, belts, shirt et cetera a lack of attention to detail or care in one’s appearance, I happen to know that mottled colors blend in better with the shadows. A mistake, I’ve been told, that has cost many a rogue their lives, is to assume that entirely black clothing blends in better when all it does is make a solid man-shaped target against the darkness.” She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to contradict her, and continued. “Not only that but all of the buckles on you are dull metal, secured so they won’t make a sound while you’re moving, nor reflect any light that may happen to fall upon them.”

He thumbed the match, his eyes narrowing as she smirked, gesturing to several places on his body.

“As I said, I am trained to know how material falls upon the body. As such, I can tell you that you’re carrying no small amount of weapons in sheaths against your skin, which can be easily reached by the rather artfully done rips in your clothing. Subtle, not something a normal person would see, but one I can appreciate knowing how much skill it must have taken to try to make it seem like they are just randomly placed and not there for a purpose.” She smiled up at him, then glanced at Tyr. “And then there’s the rather obvious fact you came here accompanied by Tyr, who is rather skilled at what he does.”

Tyr mockingly bowed to her from where he stood, his amusement plain on his face. She turned back to Sev, grinning at him.

“The stains on your clothing.” She grimaced slightly, wrinkling her nose up at him. “Blood certainly doesn’t wash out easily, does it? There are methods for removing it that won’t leave stains that I could tell you about, if you are interested. And there is scarring on the leather, indicating some sort of acid based compound splashing on it. Not enough to cause permanent damage, but enough to discolor it slightly. Poisons, perhaps? There are also the patterns of wear on your clothing to be considered.” She tapped her lips thoughtfully. “A lack of chafing on the seat of your pants indicates that you do not do a lot of riding, but instead spend your time walking, running, or otherwise using your own manpower to get around. Am I wrong?”

His eyes narrowed slightly at her as he reached into a pocket and brought out a packet of cigarettes, tapping one out and bringing it to his lips. She leaned against the back of the couch, crossing her own arms at him, her voice quiet.

“Upon meeting your partner, I happened to call him a shadow lurker, but based on your appearance… That name would suit you much better, wouldn’t it?” She jerked her chin at Tyr, who was chuckling to himself. Her face hardened, though she knew there was no way she would ever actually intimidate either of the men that currently stood in her home. “The pirate and I had a similar discussion when he first turned up in my home unannounced. Your business is your own, and I will never question it. However… If your business ever finds itself upon the doorstep of my own, then and only then will we have issues. Understand?”

Sev lit his cigarette and took a drag. They stared at one another for a long, silent moment before he grunted and gave a single, curt nod. Lyra gave him a softer, less harsh smile as Tyr pushed himself off the wall to join them.

“Then welcome to my home, Sev. Would you care for some tea?”


End file.
